They looked to be about 10 and 6 as they wobbled toward me on their bikes. Several yards in the lead, the older boy let me know that there were two more behind him. Despite being able to see his little brother and father pretty clearly, I was impressed by the young man’s knowledge and courtesy. He probably had heard his dad give such a warning on other rides, and he may have felt pretty grown up doing it himself. Passing their father, I gave him a thumbs up since my oxygen was solely purposed for powering my legs.
Several times this morning I encountered families out for hikes. More often than not, they were accompanied by modestly large dogs fully aware of the duty to protect the young and vulnerable from the attacks of flying monkey wannabes. Snarling dogs with raised hackles belie the statement “Don’t worry, he’s friendly!” when what should be said is “Don’t worry, he’s leashed!” So I was a bit over the presence of these interlopers on my 8 mile tapering long run through Bent Creek.
Seeing the boys, however, gave me respect for their father who (unlike me) was giving his Saturday morning to nurture a love of the woods in his children. Indeed, all the families as well as the newbie mountain bikers, shuffling trail runners, and pole wielding walkers were defying what could be a very different legacy. In my time in Altamont, two young women have been found dead in those particular woods. The impact of those murders has, of course, been chilling. But rather than allowing the place to be turned into haunted ground, it is hallowed ground. It is the place where our children can discover the wonders of the world in which they live. Life will always, in the end, overcome death.